Ticking Away My Time [OPEN]

[Persephone Ivy Pritchard]

outfit::profile::383 words::notes: Still getting used to her :3

If I was being completely honest, I did not see the reason for me to have to work. My parents were practically drowning in money, and had not forced me to provide for myself before. Well, I was, to a certain extent. They still bought me what I wanted (and occasionally what I didn't want). I had to find away to fund something. It was not logical, from my point of view. It simply did not make any kind of sense. When did my parents lose the ability to think? I did not know, nor did I ever care to find out.

With a sigh, I stood in the staff room, just finishing tying up my apron. It went around my waist, and hung over my black skirt in a typical "waitress" fashion. The thing was cheap, white lace that made my skin crawl just looking at it. It was absolutely vile - never before had I felt so disgusting, and never again did I intend to feel that way. It was not a feeling that I was accustomed to; no, I had never felt so...so common...in my entire life. It was a travesty.

I strode out of the staff room, back straight, head held high. If I was going to have to...work...then I was going to be as uncooperative as possible. I was not going to lie and pretend that I liked my job; no, I was going to do the very opposite. I would show just how much it displeased me to have to work around and with people below me. Below me. I sniffed scornfully. Oh well, at least I would be able to go home afterwards and be able to pretend that it had never happened. Ugh, but then, what about the next day?

The next day would bring it's own anxieties, I supposed. I just had to battle through this day. I could do it, could I not? How hard could it possibly have been? I sidled over to the first table, and gave what I hoped was a polite smile. "Hello, My name is Persephone, I will be serving you today. May I...get you anything?" I asked brightly. And in that moment, I discovered exactly how hard it could have been.

[Moriel Sarid]

Looking at the menu was more out of habit than actual necessity these days. Moriel had watched The Bistro's gradual change ever since it first opened in the 1960s. Food items came and went, but never in large quantities.

The first time he ever went was with his wife Emma, just before she died. This was where he had gone for dates with William and later with Mary. Before she died, they used to take the children here to celebrate graduations, piano recitals, things like that. It had some very good memories, though it no longer resembled the place he and Emma had dined in, her in a wheelchair as the chemo took its toll on her system. For a while, their milkshakes were the only thing she liked to eat.

The waitress was new, and unhappy by the looks of it. Moriel's serene, almost spacey eyes rose from the menu to her face. His lips hinted at a smile. "Good evening, Persephone. I haven't seen you here before. My name is Moriel." He pointed out the paper ticket tucked into his menu. "I'll have tonight's dinner special, if you will, the liver dumpling soup as the side and an iced tea."

[Persephone Ivy Pritchard]

outfit::profile::449 words::notes: Still getting used to her :3

The man sat in front of me seemed...a bit out of focus. Daydreaming? Apparently so. He looked so calm, almost...dazed. Dazed. Why? What was the point in daydreaming if it would stay in one's head? It did not have any application in the real world, where each and every human being (and a few other beings, too) lived. So where were the benefits of frittering one's time away by doing something as commonplace as...as daydreaming?

However much disdain I felt for this, though, I refused to make it obvious. First impressions were everything. And, even if this man had not made a good one on me, I was determined not to get fired on my first...alright, second day. If a very brief training course even counted as a day of work. And, if that meant being...polite...then so be it, I suppose.

I took the notebook that was clipped to the waistband of my skirt, and with one, fluid movement, pulled the accompanying pencil from behind my ear. Keeping a pencil...behind my ear. I found it absolutely ridiculous that, as a waitress, I was given somewhere to keep a notebook, but not a pencil. A pencil was an essential partner to a notebook, was it not? Maybe I should stay behind for a little while after work so that I could discuss this highly irritating matter with the amateur that I worked for.

I listened to the man's order, and jotted it down in my graphite scrawl, flinching the slightest bit at the word "I'll". I could not help it; it was a reflex movement. Contractions were not my favourite aspects of grammar; if they could even be called grammar. However, I overlooked the error, and gave the man - Moriel - a warm smile. Well, as warm as I could manage.

"I started working here yesterday," I explained as he said that he had not seen me here before. Actually, his use of my full name impressed me slightly. On meeting me, the occasional imbecile would try and shorten my name, so as to make it easier to pronounce. A popular one was Pip, which I had become rather accustomed to. Percy. Names like that. But this man? Nothing of the sort had occurred.

I quirked a curious eyebrow as a small smile tugged at my lips, but said nothing on the matter. "Alright, Moriel, your order will be out soon." I told him as I put the notebook back on by waistband, and replaced the pencil. Well, if this was my first customer...they seemed polite and agreeable enough. Maybe "working" would not be as hard as I thought.